“Go fly a kite.”
Those very words took on a literal meaning one Independence holiday. And, a glorious holiday it was for my sister and me. We were like little girls again; excited and giddy as our kite took off towards the clouds, flying freely as it fluttered about the skyline. It was merely a coincidence that the kite I had purchased was a Monarch butterfly.
My family and I stumbled across an open lot once home to white, majestic Antebellum mansions; destroyed by Katrina’s wrath. The hurricane had leveled a lot of the structures along Beach Boulevard clearing the space like Mother Nature’s wrecking ball. The area was now full of high grass and burweed, sticker plants that had occasionally stuck to my sandals as I fumbled my way through the tall grass. The sound of the Gulf was in our ears in the distance while trucks and cars bustled in the vicinity searching for the perfect spot to view the Fourth of July fireworks display. But, for us, the sky was already illuminated…with our Monarch butterfly. It’s shell made merely of soft and hard plastic. Yet, it captured our eyes for an extended period of time. They were fixed for one full hour before the sun decided to take its rest.
Getting it in the air was a task. The first few attempts almost deflated our hopes as the wind whipped the flimsy packaging from our hands and it nose-dived every time. But, with each try, we became more and more determined to see our beautiful creation soar. And, it did. Passersby gazed and a child yelled to her mother, “Mommy, look. A butterfly!” almost in unison just as my sister and I exclaimed to our mother, “Mom, come see!”
Kiting wasn’t just for the young, but also the young at heart and we had proven it. As a fellow blogger and friend pointed out, “being a kid is in the spirit. Let your kid side fly free.”
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